••••••••••••••••••••••ill 


BY  B.  F.  BROWN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Mrs.   George  Uor« 


1/AXJ 

0 


POEMS 


of 


Life  in  the  Country 


by 


BENT-    F.   BROWN 


Tenth   Edition,   Revised  and   Richly   Illustrated 


Copyright  April,    1921,   by   Benj.    F.    Brown 


PROVIDENCE,   R.    I. 
1921 


PS 


b 

INDEX 

A  Bunch  of  Violets  ........  ......................  48-50 

After   Huckleberries    (Illustrated)  .................  32-33 

After   the    Shower    (Illustrated)  ..................  50-51 

Along  the  River  Banks  (Illustrated)  ..............  90-91 

Always  Wear  a  Smile   (Illustrated)  ..............  30-31 

A  Light  from  Paradise  ............................  78 

Baby    Rob    (Illustrated)  ..........................  24-25 

Beneath  the  Old  Elm  Tree  (Illustrated)  ...........  46-47 

Blue   Fringed  Gentian    (Illustrated)  ...............  56-57 

Daisies     ...........................................  54 

Falling   Leaves    ...................................  83 

Gideon   Smith,  the  Joiner  ..........................   28 

Going  a  Fishing  (Illustrated)  .....................  26-27 

Goldenrod    (Illustrated)    .........................  58-59 

Haying,    Some   Memory  Talks  .....................  71 

In    Memory's    Chamber    (Illustrated)  .............  34-35 

In    the    Trundle-bed    (Illustrated)  ................  92-93 

In   the    Forest    (Illustrated)  .......................  72-73 

In    the    High-Back    Sleigh    (Illustrated)  ..........  60-61 

Nature's   Play   (Illustrated)    .....................  48-49 

October    Days     ...................................   58 

On  the  Old   Farm   (Illustrated)  ..................  14-16 

One   Summer   Night    (Illustrated)  ................  74-75 

Peace    ............................................   54 

Peep,    Peep,    Peep    (Illustrated)  ....................   52 

Popping  the  Question  ..............................  86 

Ringing  of   the  Chimes  ...........................  77-78 

Roses     ......  ......................................     8 

School    Days    in   the   Country  ......................   66 

Sing  Me  a  Song   (Illustrated)  ...................  10-1  1 

Smiling  Faces    .....................................   55 


INDEX 

Springtime    (Illustrated)    82 

The  Angels'  Sweetest  Song 76 

That   Morning   Ride 83 

The  Cottager   ( Illustrated) 80-81 

The  Country   Hoy   (Illustrated)    20-22 

The  Curtain  of   Night  (Illustrated) 8 

The  Hills  of  Old  New  England  (Illustrated) 36-37 

The  Husking  Party 89 

The  Rainy  Day  in  July 62-63 

There's   Light   Ahead    (Illustrated) 41 

Those    Cowhide    Boots 29 

The  Old  Farm  House 38 

The  Old   Ring  Game 19 

The   Old    Woolen    Jacket 70 

The  School  Exhibition    88 

The  Schoolhousc  on  the  Hill   (Illustrated) 18-19 

The   Sea    (Illustrated) 64-65 

The    Sea    Mystery    (Illustrated) 68-69 

The  Singing  School   40 

The    Summer    Morn    7 

The   Summer   Night    90 

The  Sunset   (Illustrated1)    7 

The  Swell,  Mollic  and  the  Lilies   <  Illustrated) 44-45 

The    Two    Old    Men 24 

The    Vacation    Rest    (Illustrated) 42-43 

The    Winter    Day    (Illustrated) 84-85 

Wild    Strawberries    22-23 

Winter   (Illustrated)   12-13 

Yellow  Cowslips   (Illustrated)..  52 


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INTRODUCTORY 

'  I  'HIS  little  volume  of  verses  has  many 
•*•  lines  which,  while  I  read,  make  me,  in 
imagination,  actually  present  among  the  scenes 
and  with  the  associations  there  portrayed — 
in  fact,  these  verses  are  born  of  my  life  in 
the  country  among  the  hills  and  valleys  ot 
New  England,  born  of  my  schooldays  in  the 
"schoolhouse  on  the  hill,"  of  the  days  on  tht 
"old  farm,"  of  the  "school  exhibitions,"  "sing 
ing  schools,"  and  many  other  happy  times  in 
childhood,  youth,  and  later  years. 

I  hope  these  verses  may  touch  the  feeling-; 
of  many  who  read  them,  and  that,  like  the 
treasures  in  our  memories,  "while  we  sit  by 
the  fireside  and  ponder  them  o'er,"  peace  may 
"comfort  our  hearts  like  a  sweet  benediction." 

On  the  "Old  Farm"  was  the  home  of  my 
boyhood,  and  many  years  ago  the  hcxnte  of 
General  Israel  Putnam,  famous  in  the  records 
of  the  War  of  the  Revolution.  I  cordially 
welcome  the  readers  of  this  little  book. 

B.  F.  BROWN. 


'The  day's  farewell  to  the  summer  ninht."     Photo  by  Miss  Oostdyk. 
In   Michigan. 


POEMS 

From  Life's  Experience 


THE  SUMMER  MORN 

A  blush  of  pink  melting  in  the  blue 

With  a  lingering  star  just  peeping  through, 

A  glow  of  light  where  the  robin  sings, 

The  breath  of  the  roses'  blossomings, 

The  silvery  webs  on  the  meadow  grass, 

With   tiny    dewdrops    overcast. 

The  soft  air  stirred  by  the  waking  breeze 

To  a  low  sweet  song  through  the  leafy  trees, 

A  thrill  of  joy  in  our  souls  newborn, — 

All  tell  of  the  beautiful  summer  morn. 

— From  "New  England  Magazine,"  by  B.  F.  Brown. 


THE   SUNSET 

A  royal  gem  was  the  rosy  west, 
Of  heaven's  works  the  loveliest, 
Draped  with  a  sheen  of  opal  light, 
The  day's  farewell  to  the  summer  night. 

We  watched  while  the  Artist  changed  its  tone, 
Till  the  brightest  tints  had  softer  grown, 
And  as  we  gazed  on  the  picture  fair, 
We  felt  the  hand  of  the  Master  there. 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE  CURTAIN  OF  NIGHT 

Over   the   shadowy    trees    it    falls. 
Over   the   ivy-mantled    walls. 
Over  each  stone  and  silent  grave, 
Over  the  church   from  tower  to  nave. 
Over    the    city    that    tries    in    vain 
To    win    its    light    the    day    again, 

Over  the  sea  till  each   darkening  roll 
Grown  darker  and  black  like  a  ruined  soul, 
Over    us    all    with    insistent    creep 
Falls   the  curtain   of   night 
Till  the  world  is  asleep. 


ROSES 

Down  in  the  garden   I   wandered  one  morn, 

Looking  for  roses   sweet ; 
Roses  in  blossom  with  night  dews  thereon, 

Robed  in  a  beauty  complete. 
Searching,   I    found  the   fairest  ones  there, 

Born  while  the  stars  shone  above; 
Breathing  their  fragrance,  their  perfume  rare, 

Sweet  as  a  message  of  love. 

Only  the  best  of  the  roses  I  took, 

Roses  I  knew  she  would  prize ; 
Payment  in  full  would  be  her  kind  look, 

Just  a  look  from  the  dearest  blue  eyes. 
I  gave  her  the  roses,  said  never  a  word, 

But  watched  the  light  shine  in  her  eyes. 
And  then,  in  return,  no  language  was  heard. 

Her  gift  was  the  sweetest  surprise. 


8 


"Over   the   shadowy   trees   it  falls." 

Photo   by   Daines   &   Nichols.     Part   College   Campus, 

Ann  Arbor,   Mich. 


POEMS  FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


SING  ME  A  SONG 

Sing  me   a   song   from   the   long   ago, 
As   she   sang   so   true  and   sweet, 
Till   her  smile   appears 
Through   the  mists   of   years, 
The   smile  that   I   loved   to   meet. 

Sing  me  the  song  that  my  sweetheart  sang 
On  the  beach  one  summer   night, 

While    the    breakers    dashed 

On   the   rocks  and   flashed 
Like  diamonds   in   moonlight   bright. 

Sing   me   a   song   that   the   winsome   girl 
Sang  in  the  old  town  hall. 

Till    each    felt    a    thrill 

And  the  house  grew  still ; 
'Twas  the  song  that  charmed  them  all. 

Sing  me  the  song  that  my  mother  sang 
When  I   was  a  little  child 

In   her  arms   to   keep 

Till  I    fell  asleep 
While  close  to  my  face  she  smiled. 

Just  one  more  song,  for  'twill  not  be  long 
E're  I'll  hear  the  angels  sing 

With  a  sweeter  tone 

Than    I've   ever    known 
In   the  palace   of   the   King. 


10 


"Sing  me   the  song  that  my  mother  sang 

When  I   was  a   little  child." 
Photo  by   Sabine,    Providence,   R.   I. 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


WINTER 

How  the  wind   whistles  and   rattles  the  blinds 
While  the  rain  and  sleet  strike  the  window  panes, 

And  the  Storm-King  marshals  his  hosts  and  finds 
Every  place  where  a  hole  or  crevice  remains. 

The  snow  sifts  in  when  the  gusts  fly  past, 
The   drifts   whirl   over   the  garden   wall, 

The  storms  of  winter  are  here  at  last 
Draping  the   sky   with   a   leaden   pall. 

The    back-log    lies    in    the    wide    fireplace, 
And  the  burning  embers  scarcli  its  heart, 

While  the  glowing   fire  creeps   on   apace, 
Tearing  its  sinews  of  oak  apart. 

Let  the  storm  go  on,  we  defy  the  cold, 

We  are  cosy  and  warm  in  the  lamp-lit  room, 

While  the  apples  roast  in  the  ashes  old 
And  the  walnuts  crack  to  meet  their  doom 

w 

We    gather    around    the    fireside    now 
And  talk  of  the  days  in  the  long  ago, 

Of    the    glorious    times    we    had    and    how 

We  would  race  our  steeds  over  ice  and  snow, 

Let  the  winter  come,  there  are  joys  it  brings 
To  the  boys  and  girls,  to  the  young  and  old : 

Every  snow-clad  hill  in  the  moonlight  sings 
Of  the  "mansions  fair  and  the  streets  of  gold." 


12 


"How   the   wind   whistles  and   rattles   the  blinds." 
Photo    by    W.    Mizunuma.     In    Oregon 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


ON  THE  OLD  FARM 

Far  away  on  the  dear  old   farm 
Is  a  home   with   a   lasting;   charm. 

Old    and    gray ; 
Its  roof  with  moss  is  covered 
Where  the  waving  branches  hovered 

Many   a  day. 

How    often    has    the    dawning 
Of    a    beautiful    June    morning, 

Long    ago, 

At  my  window  blushed  while  telling 
Of  the  roses  sweetly  smelling, 

Just  below. 

The  beauty,   like  a  blessing, 
Of  Nature,  sweet,  caressing, 

Filled    the   air; 

The  woods  and   fields  were  glorious, 
And    summer   reigned   victorious 

Everywhere. 

In    meadows   sweet   with   haying 
We,   happy   children    playing, 

Wandered    free ; 
The  birds   sang  gaily  o'er  us 
While  we  would  join  the  chorus, 

Full   of   glee. 

The    round-eyed    daisies,    spying 
The   blue   where  clouds   were   flying, 

Seemed  to  say : 

"Though  sweet  at  times  life's  story, 
Up  yonder  lies  its  glory, 

Far  away." 


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'The   round-eyed   daisies,   spying."     Photo   by   Phil   M.    Riley 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 

Beside  the   brooklet   flowing 
We  found  fair  gentians  growing, 

Heavenly    blue; 
And  later,  nuts  delicious 
Encased  in  burrs  malicious. 

Two  by   two. 

Of   work    we  made   a    pleasure 
In   filling   many    a   measure, 

Husking    corn  ; 

Plump   turkeys,    'round    us    feeding, 
Thanksgiving   all   unheeding, 

Fatal  morn. 

By  fireside'.s  ruddy  glow. 
Outside,    the    drifting    snow, — 

We  would   meet ; 
With   apples,    ripe   and    red, 
And  nuts  on  table  spread, 

Such  a  treat. 

And   as   the   flames    leaped    higher 
We,  gazing  in  the  tire, 

Seemed  to  see 

Old   Santa   Claus,   gifts   bringing, 
While  Christmas  bells  were  ringing    • 

Merrily. 

We  had   no   thought   of   sorrow, 
'Twas  joy  today,  tomorrow, 

Then, — always. 

Ah,    me,    as    years    grow    older, 
The  world  seems  hard  and  colder, 

Shorn    of    rays. 

But   far  beyond  its  toiling 
Beyond    its    sad    turmoiling, 

Shines  the  light 
Of    Heaven,   a   joy    forever. 
Where  the  bright   day   shall   never 

End   in   night. 

16 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 

A  SONG 
THE   SCHOOLHOUSE   ON   THE   HILL 

In   the  golden   summer  morning, 

Down  the   sunny   winding   road, 
By  the  verdant,  Howery  meadows ; 

How   my   heart   with   joy   o'erflowed — 
O,  the  happy  days  of  childhood, 

Recollection   brings  a   thrill, 
As  in  fancy  now  1  wander 

Near  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hill. 

Birds  are  singing  by  the  wayside, 

There's    a    nest    'mid    bowers    of    green, 
Berries   ripe   stain   little  fingers 

While    they    search    the    briars    between; 
Wealth    of   beauty,   joy   and   sunshine, 

Nature's   best    our    longings   fill 
While    we   trudge   along   the   pathway 

Towards  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hill. 

Blue  the  skies  that  shine  above  it, 

Curtained   by   the    whispering   trees, 
Rich   the   memories   clustering   round   it, 

Sweeter    than   the    summer    breeze. 
Smooth    and    hollow   is   its   doorstep, 

Worn  and  thin  its  ancient  sill 
By    the    little    feet    that    entered 

In  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hill. 

There's    a    chamber    in    my    memory, 

In  my  heart  are  held  the  keys, 
And  its  treasure,  schooldays'  sweetheart 

Will  remain  till  heavens'  release : 
Though  the  years  have  cast  their  shadows, 

Yet,  through  all  there  linger  still, 
Visions  of  my  little  sweetheart 

In  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hill. 

18 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 

THE  OLD  RING  GAME 

"On   the  carpet   here  we   stand, 
Take  your  true-love  by   the  hand, 
Take   the   one   that  you   love  best 
Before  yo.u  close  your  eyes  to  rest." 

There   was   one   little   girl   \vith   the  auburn   curl 

And    she    knew   that   you    loved    her   best. 
For  'twas  always  the  same  in  playing  that  game, 

You  would  take   her  and   leave   the  rest. 
But   that   one   little   girl   with   the   auburn   curl 

Had  a  choice'  of  her  own  to   show, 
,And   your   heart    would    ache   when    she   chose   to   take 

That  boy  with  his  hair  like  tow. 


"In    the    golden    summer    morning."     Photo    by   W.    L.    Pond. 
In  Brooklyn,   Conn. 

19 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

On   a  tick   filled   with   straw,   sleeping  soundly   he   lay, 
A   sleep  that   was   perfect,    for   labor,  part   pay ; 
No  youth  in  the  city  could  ever  enjoy 
The  pleasure  of  rest  as  much  as  that  boy. 

The  calls  of  the  morning  awaken  the  lad, 
Shirt,   pants,   one  suspender,   enough,   he's    full   clad; 
Not  a  minute  is  wasted,  for  all  of  the  cows 
Must    be    milked    before    sunrise    and    turned    out    to 
browse. 

No  short  hours  of  labor  has  this  country  boy, 
He  knows  that  no  farmer  could  that  way  enjoy; 
For  when  winter  arrived  the  purse  would  be  lean 
And  a  struggle  till   springtime  the  only  path   seen. 

After  breakfast  'tis  pleasant,  in  garden  and  field 
To  work   with   a  will    for  a  good   harvest   yield, 
There's   planting  and   hoeing  and   haying-time,  too, 
And  two  holidays,  just  jewels  for  you. 

Twas  no  hardship  to  work,  how  often  T  think 
Of  the  days,  hoeing  corn,  how  the  proud  bobolink 
Just   sings  till   his  throat  seems  bursting  with   glee 
And   all   of  his   song   is   intended   for   me. 

O,  don't  you   remember  the  day  at  the  fair. 
Every  one  whom  you  knew  was  sure  to  be  there, 
And  bashful  and  awkward,  your   feelings  awhirl, 
You  could   look,   more  than   talk,   when  you   met  tha< 
dear  girl. 


20 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


In  winter  the  parties,  the  sleighing,  the  school, 
The  games  played  at   noontime,  be   fair  was  the   rule ; 
The  good-night  at  the  ending,  the  slide  down  the  hill, 
And  pleasures,  full  many,  the  winter  would  fill. 

O,  boys  in  the  cities,  who  think  that  you  live 
And  have  better  times   than  the  country  can  give ; 
Know  this  to  be  true,  that  the  bright  country  lad 
Has  pleasures   far  more  than  you   ever  have  had. 

Fast   life   in   the   city,   like  brass   covered   with   gold. 
Becomes    artificial    and    spoils    when    it's    old; 
But  life  in  the  country,  lived  true  to  the  end. 
Has   all   nature's   charms   that   lite  to  befriend. 


WILD  STRAWBERRIES 

There  were  plenty  of  them  in  the  "sidehill"  lot, 
And  how  we  would  search   for  the  thickest  spot ; 
In  June   was   the  time    for  the   largest  yield, 
But    'twas    hoeing   time   in    the    big   cornfield, 
Just  so  many  rows  we  must  hoc  in  a  day 
Before  we  could  leave  and  scamper  away; 
And  so  we  would  start  in  the  early  morn 
To  hoe  out  the  weeds  in  that  field  of   corn. 

By  working  hard,  a   short  rest  at   noon, 
We   would   finish  Iry   middle  of   afternoon, 
And  then   with   a   will,  no  time  to  waste, 
We  would  rush  to  that  place  for  a  strawberry  taste. 
When  our  pails  were  full  we  would  pick  and  cat, 
In   vain    to    resist,   they   were   luscious   and   sweet ; 
For   supper   that   night,    with    sugar  and   cream 
And  new  bread  and  butter  a  feast  it  would  seem ; 


22 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 

We  would  empty  our  saucers  and  ask  for  more, 
Strawberries,    strawberries,    berries    galore. 
Then  the  cows  must  be  milked,  pigs  and  chickens  fed 
And   the  chores  all   done,   we   were   ready   for  bed. 
Picking   wild   strawberries,   those   days   in   June 
When   Nature   seems   singing   in  perfect  tune, 
Then  hurrying  home   ere   the   sun   has   set 
Is   a  picture   fair   in   my   memory  yet. 


"In   the  sidehill   lot." 
Photo  by   Beckwith.  In   Michigan. 


23 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 

SUNRISE  IN  LIFE 
BABY  ROB 

Little   eyes   of   blue  and   rosy  cheeks, 
Smiles    and    dimples    when    mother    speaks 
Golden    ringlets    round    tiny    ears, 
Always  so  jolly,  never  in  tears; 
A  sweet  little  voice  no  language  knowing 
But    baby    laughter    and    baby    crowing, 
Bright   as   an   angel    from   above, 
Born   for  happiness,  born  to  love ; 
Could  ever  there  be  a  sight  more  fair 
Than  baby  Rob  with  the  golden  hair  ? 

SUNSET   IN   LIFE 
THE  Two  OLD  MEN 

They  sat  by  the  old  fireplace, 
Smoking  their  pipes   in  peace, 

Having    done    their    part    in    life, 

From    toli    they    had    reached    release ; 

They    talked   and    laughed,    and   told 
Of   things   in   the  old   hame  town, 

Of   the   boys   they   used   to   know 

Who    now   had   gained    renown. 

Each  saw  in   memory's  hall 

Bright  scenes  and  happy  days, 
And  many   mistakes  they  made 

In   the   parting  of   the   ways ; 
But  now,  they'd  certainly  be 

Like   Solomon,  very  wise, 
And,  feeling  they  knew  it  all, 

The  rest  of  the  boys  advise. 


24 


Baby   Rob 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


GOING   A   FISHING 

'Twas   a  day   I    shall   always   remember, 
A  most  beautiful   day  in   September, 
Not  a  cloud  in  the  sky 
And    our    spirits    were    high ; 
Life,   with   us,   was   far   from  an  ember. 

All    the   summer  we   boys   had   been   wishing 
For  the  time  when  we  could  go  fishing, 
So   we  cut  some  birch   poles, 
Dug   the   worms    from   mud   holes, 
\\hile    mother    our    luncheon    was    dishing. 

Then  we  harnessed  old  black  and  the  gray, 
Hitched    them    fast    to   an    ancient    coupe, 
Put  in  bait,  hook  and  line, 
Stuck   the    poles    out    behind, 
And  our  rollicking  crew  sped  away. 

By  upland  and  valley  and  meadow, 
'Neath    cloudland    and    sunlight    and    shadow, 
Down    the    white   sandy    road 
Where   the   goldenrod   glowed 
Near  the   red   of   the  sumac,   in  yellow. 

Soon  the  pond,  a   fair  picture  in  blue, 

And  some  flat-bottomed  boats  came  in  view ; 

So    we    slackened    our   speed, 

Tied    the    horses    for    feed, 
And    bid    summer's    labor    adieu. 

O   that  day,   it   was   surely  a   winner, 
For    we   caught   lots   of   fishes    for   dinner 

And    with    appetites    big, 

Drove   home   in   our   rig, 
Eat   them  all,   or  else,   I'm  a   sinner. 


26 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


GIDEON   SMITH,  THE  JOINER 

"Carpenter  &  Joiner."  that   was  his  sign, 
But  he'd  join  everything  that   entered   his   mind; 
The  first  baby  show  in  the  old  Town  Hall 
He  joined   and  joined   in   the  baby   squall. 

Later  he   joined   in  the  primary  class. 
Joined  the  teacher  in  kissing  a  beautiful  lass, 
Joined  in  the  singing,  then  joined  in  the  prayer, 
And  in  every  quarrel  that  happened  there. 

Still   later,   when   larger   and   able   to   play, 
Joined   all  the  ball  clubs  that  came   in   his   way; 
He   joined    in   licking   the   umpire,   too, 
Whenever  the  chap  wouldn't  join   in  his  view. 

O,  that  Gideon   Smith,  he  joined  the  church 
And   societies,   all   he   could   find   by   search, 
The   Masons,   the   Elks,   the   Odd   Fellows,  too. 
Why,  he  joined  them  all  and  longed  for  new. 

He  joined  with   Salomie  in  wedlock  bands, 
Then  joined  with  the  preacher  in  holding  her  hands: 
He    joined   in   living   with   her   the   life 
That   made   them   happy,   as   man   and   wife. 

He  joined  the  crowd  that  went  to  his  grave, 
But  there,  left  alone,  just  his  record  to  save. 
He  concluded  to  leave  and  join  Gideon's  band 
And  in  singing  the  songs  in  the  heavenly  land. 


28 


POEMS  FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THOSE  COWHIDE   BOOTS 

How   well   I   remember   in   days   of   old 
Those  cowhide  boots  in  the  village  sold, 
How  every  boy  must  have  a  pair 
In  winter   days   for  him  to   wear; 
Then  with  woolen  stockings  his  mother  knit, 
And  bright  new  boots  his  feet  to  fit, 
He  would   feel  as  proud  as  any  king, 
When  towards  the  school  he  was  hurrying. 

And   when   the   snows   of   winter  came, 

If  wet  his  feet,  he  was  to  blame, 

For  beeswax,  tallow  and  neatsfoot  oil, 

All  melted  hot,  was  the  kind  of  spoil 

He  must  rub  on  his  boots,  for  his  father  said, 

"Boys  grease  your  boots  'fore  you  go  to  bed, 

Then  put  them  behind  the  stove  to  dry, 

And  do  it  now,  not  by  and  by." 

At   morning,   ere  the   rise  of   sun, 

The  forenoon  chores  must  all  be  done, 

Then  buckwheat  cakes  and  maple  syrup 

Unending   appetite   would    stir    up ; 

Next,  in  deep  snow  'twas  pure  delight 

To    wear   those  boots   with    pants   tied   tight 

Around    the    legs    for    barricade, 

A  wise  protection  mother  made. 

From  tramping  in  the  snow  till  night, 
Those  boots  would  shrink  till  awful  tight, 
The  bootjack  seemed  the  only  way 
To   pull   them    off — they   meant   to    stay. 
Sometimes   your  brother,  very  kind, 
While  you  with   one   foot  pushed  behind, 
Between    his    legs    would    take    the    other 
And  pull  till   ended  was  your  bother. 


29 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


ALWAYS   WEAR  A   SMILE 

There's   never   a    darkened    forest 
That  the  sunlight  doesn't  peep  in 

And    help    each    budding    plant 
A  beautiful   life  to  win. 

There's   never  a   raging   tempest 

No  power  of  man  can  quell, 
But   He,    who   rules   the    storm, 

Speaks   peace,   and   all   is  well. 

There's  never  a  day  so  dreary, 
Or   a  night   so   sad   and   lone, 
But   passing,   life   is   brighter 
If   \ve  live   its  purest   tone. 

There's    never    a    cloud    so    darksome, 

Or  a  shadow  across  the  way, 
But   will   vanish   like  dew   in   the  meadows 

In   the   morn   of  a  summer  day. 

So   fight  life's   battle  bravely 

And  always  wear  a  smile, 
Compared  with  a  lasting  victory, 

'Tis  fight  but  a  little  while. 


30 


'And  help  each  budding  plant  a  beautiful  life  to  win." 
Photo  by  De   Vault.     In  Michigan 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


AFTER    HUCKLEBERRIES 

Did  you  ever  go  for  berries  in  the  pasture  lot, 

Go  barefoot,   where   thistles   prick,  to   find   the  thickest 

spot  ? 

Six-quart  pails  you  used  to  fill,  nothing  else  would  do, 
Mother  wanted  them  for  pies,  and  'twas  up  to  you. 

In  those  August  days,  you  know,  it  was  awful  hot, 
Largest  berries  never  grew  in  a  shady  spot ; 
So  when  you   were   melting    fast,   tired    from   the   heat. 
You   would  break  the  bushes  down,   find   a  shady   seat. 

Underneath  those  big  oak  trees,  just  a  mile  from  school, 
There  you'd  pick  the  berries  off.  feeling  nice  and  cool ; 
Then  you'd  go  and  break  some  more,  bring  a  big  pile 

back, 
Dodging  thistles  here  and  there  and  the  wasp's  attack. 

You  would  never  go  alone,  all  the  neighbors  knew 
Where  to  send  their  boys  and  girls,  where  best  berries 

grew ; 

So  there   was  a  jolly   time,  every  pail   was   full. 
When    suddenly   appeared   in   sight   the    farmer's   angry 

bull. 

Me  bellowed  loud  and  pawed  the  earth,  we  scampered 

towards   the    wall 
And   safely   reached   the   other   side   with    no   one   hurt 

at   all. 
But  berries !   there  they  stayed  all  day,  and  there  they 

stayed  all  night, 
And    there,    perhaps,    they're    staying   now    if    that    big 

bull's  in  sight. 


32 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


IN    MEMORY'S    CHAMBER 

In  the  chamber  of  memory  are  beautiful  treasures, 

Enticing  us  often  to  enter  its  doors; 
Its  pictures  are  full  of  the  dearest  of  pleasures, 

And,  O,  how  we  long  just  to  live  them  once  more- 
How  swift  sped  the  hours,  how  bright  was  the  sunlight 

How  happy  the  seasons  those  pictures  recall, 
Through  the  veil  of  the  past  their  radiance  glimmers, 

Like  the  glow  of  the  sunset  when  night  shadows  fall. 

One  canvas,  presenting  a  scene  of  my  childhood, 

Shows  sweet  little   faces   and   white  slumber  clothes 
Encircling  the  fireside,   whose  bright,   sparkling  embers 

Discover  the  darlings  just  warming  their  toes. 
Another    I    see, — now   the   years   have   grown   older, 

And   softly  the  moonlight   its  drapery   throws 
Round  a  beautiful   face,  nestling  close  to  my  shoulder 

Enchanting   and    sweeter    than    June's    blushing    rose 

There  are  moments  so  precious,  they  sparkle  like  dia 
monds, 

There  are  hours  rich  as  rubies,  whose  record  is  there 
There  arc  days,  like  rare  gems,  when  the  blue  arch  oi 
Heaven 

Seems  the  curtain   of   Paradise,   wondrously    fair. 
These  treasures  are  ours,  ours  now  and  forever, 

Their  beauty  unfading,   time   adds   to   their   store; 
Peace  comforts  our  hearts,  like  a  sweet  benediction, 

While  we  sit  by  the  firelight  and  ponder  them  o'er. 


34 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 

A  SONG 
THE    HILLS    OF   OLD    XEW    ENGLAND 

O,  the  hills  of  old  New  England, 

How  the  pictures  come     and  go 
As  my  fancy  paints  their  beauty 

'Mid   the  scenes  of  long  ago; 
The  old  home  beneath   the  maples 

Where  the  happy  children  play, 
E'en  now  their  voices   reach  me 

Till  it  seems  but  yesterday. 

On  a  hill   of   old   New   England 

By  the  spreading  boughs  of  green 
Stands  the  schoolhouse  of  my  boyhood; 

Many  years  now   roll  between — 
Let  the  past  become  the  present, 

Brush  the  mists  of  years  away, 
And  once  more  upon  that  hillside 

Life   is   all  a  holiday. 

O,  the  hills  of  old   New   England, 

Rolling  on  'neath  summer  skies, 
Forest-crowned  or  waving  verdure, 

How  their  glory  fills  our  eyes; 
Many  lands  I've  traveled  over, 

On  their  sunny  slopes  to  rest, 
But  the  hills  of  old  New  England 

Are  the  ones  I  love  the  best. 


36 


POEMS    FROM     LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 

THE  OLD   FARM   HOUSE 

Go  a  mile  or  so  from  the  old  grist  mill 

On  through  the  woods  where  'tis  dark  and  still 

Up  the  grassy  road,  at  the  top  of  the  hill 

Is  the  old  farm  house  alone  and  bare, 

For  a  century  past   it  has   stood  there, 

And  now  like   a  tramp   is  devoid  of   care. 

Go  up  in  the  garret  and  there  you   will   spy 
Many  things  that  were  used  in  the  days  gone  by, 
There  are  pots  and  kettles  that  never  again 
Will   be  hung  by  hooks  on  the  swinging  crane. 
In   the  wide   fireplace,   over   burning  wood 
Where  grandmother  cooked  and  'twas  always  good. 

A   carpet  loom  by  the  window  stands, 

To  be  used  no  more  by  the  weaver's  hands  ; 

Back   close   to   the   caves    is   the    trundle-toed, 

Imagine,  in  years  that  now  have  fled, 

How  it  held  the   little  ones   through   the  night 

Till   early   they   woke  at   morning   light; 

No  one  of  those  little  ones  dared  to  go 
When  winds  around  the  house  would  blow, 
Up   in   the   garret   in   dark  of   night 
Guiding  their   way   \ry   candle   light, 
Afraid   of   the  ghosts  that   might   be   there, 
Or   a    raggedy   man    on    the    topmost    stair. 

Right  back  of  the  house  a  barn  once   sto<  d. 
Now  boards  and  beams  that  are  far   from  good, 
The  garden  is   full  of   weeds   for  a  crop 
Some    of    them    climbing    over    the    top ; 
A  broken-down  curb  is     over  the  well, 
What  its  contents  are  no  one  can  tell, 
And  the  old  farm  house  has  nothing  to  show 
Twas    a   happy   home    in    the    long   ago. 
(Not  far  from  the  "wolf  den") 

38 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE  SIXGIXG   SCHOOL 

Now  all  together,  high   from  low. 
Do,   ra,   mi.    fa.   sol,   la.   ci.   do ; 
Just   follow  me  and  sing  just  so, 
Do.    ci.    la.    sol.    fa.    mi,    ra.    do. 

The   violin    as   he    swings    the   bow 
Brings  out  the  sounds,  now  high,  now  low, 
And  the  teacher,  singing  and   playing,  too, 
Is  an  awesome  sight   to   his  country   crew. 

"And  now,"  he  says,  "I  will  voices  test ; 
You,  Thomas  Jones,  just  sing  your  best." 
And  Tom  gives  forth  a  rumbling  roar, 
A  bass  untnmmed  and  something  more. 

"Now,   Mary  Ann,  it's  up  to  you; 
Just   show   me   now    what   you   can    do." 
And  the  healthy  blonde,  with  the  yellow  hair. 
Soprano  proves  while  the  hearers  stare. 

"A  voice  I  heard  in  the  rear  end  seat, 
Will   Billy   Smith   the   tone   repeat?" 
Then  Smith,  he  gave  a  piercing  yell. 
Till  the  oil  lamps  shook,  'twas  a  tenor  spell. 

"An  alto  now  we  want  to  hear, 
I   think  we  have  one  sitting  near  " 
And   Nellie  sang,   a   voice  so   sweet. 
That  all   the   school   said,   "Please   repeat." 

And  so  he  picked  them,  one  by  one, 
Till  finally  the  task  was  done ; 
And  singing  school  in  the  old  town  hall 
Was  started  in  the  early  fall. 


40 


THERE'S  LIGHT  AHEAD 

Though  dark  the  way  for  many  a  day 

Till    hope    is    almost    gone ; 
Cheer    up,    in   time    the    sun    will    shine, 

'Tis   better   further   on. 
In  the   forest  path   comes   an   aftermath, 

Though    shady   and   dark    awhile, 
There's  light  ahead,  through  the  opening  shed 

Where  the  sunlight  gives  a  smile. 


41 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE   VACATION   REST 

Here   in    the   country   a    few    short    weeks, 
Here    where    Nature    its    language    speaks, 
Speaks  with  a  voice  that  is  sweet  and  low, 
Speaks    with    its    beauties'    overflow. 
Over   me   gaily   the   white   clouds   sail, 
Over    each    hill    and    fertile    vale, 
Songs  of  the  birds  and  low  of  the  kine, 
Songs    never    written    and    all    are    mine. 
Gone   are    the    worries,    toil,    and    strife. 
Gone   are   the   burdens   of   city    life; 
Life  while   I    linger   is  passing  sweet. 
Life  full  of  joy  that  is  joy  complete. 

The  lights  and  shadows  o'er  waving  grass 

Like   fairies   dance   when   the  cloudlets   pass; 

It*  the   valley   of    peace   the   river   glides. 

Seeking   afar    for   the   ocean    tides. 

Grassy   the  banks,   and   the   odors   sweet 

Of   the  lilies'  bloom   near   the   birds'   retreat. 

Go  to  the  country  a   few   short   weeks. 

Go   where   Nature   its   language   speaks. 

Go,   yes  go.   though   you  go   alone. 

For,  your  strength  increased.  y<mr  cares  o'erthrown. 

The    storms    of    life   will    try    in    vain 

To  wreck  your  bark   when  home  again. 


42 


"Gone  are  the  burdens  of  city  life."     Photo  by  Beckwith 
In  Michigan 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


THE   SWELL,    MOLLIE  AND   THE  LILIES 

From  the  city  he  came  in  his  suit  of  pure  white. 
Hat,    stockings   and   shoes,  just  the   same,   his  delight; 
He   intended   to   stay  just   a   week  at  the    farm, 
A   sweet   country  girl   living  there  was   the  charm. 
He  thought,  dressed  so  nice  and  with  cigarette  too, 
Country  boys  would  abscond  when  he  came  in  view ; 
But  Tom,  Jim,  and  Harry  just  laughed  at  the  sight 
And   vowed   they   would   fix  him   before   it   was  night. 

So    the   boys    winked   at    Mollic,   who   drew   him   awaj 
And  said,   "I   do  want   some   pond   lilies  today, 
There's   a   lot   in   the   pond,   'tis  a   beautiful    walk." 
And   he,   thus   enticed,    grew   soft   in   his   talk. 
Then   through   the   soft  meadow   so  lightly  she  trod, 
He,   eager   to    follow,   sank  his    feet   in   the   sod, 
Mollie,  laughing,  called  back,  "O,  leave  your  shoes  there 
For  when  we  get  home  Jim  \vill  lend  you  a  pair." 

Over  walls,  bogs,  and  briars  she  led  him  with  ease, 
He  stumbled  and  fell,  tore  his  pants  from  his  knees, 
Mollie  then  looking  back  j.ust  laughed  till  she  cried 
When  she  saw  a  tree  branch  rip  his  coat  off  one  side 
And  puncture  his  hat  which  was  caught  by  the  way 
He   was   trying   to   save  a    few   clothes   in   the    fray. 
"Never  mind,"  shouted  Molly,  when  we  go  home  tonight 
Tom  will   lend  you  some  clothes,  but  they're  not  very 
white." 

Now  the  pond  soon  appeared,  a  most  beautiful  sight, 
With  lilies  a  plenty,  just  a  scene  of  delight; 
He  determined  to  win  and  get  lilies  galore, 
But  sank  in  the  mud  not   far  from  the  shore. 
Mollie  called,  and  the  boys  with  ropes  yanked  him  out 
All  streaked  and  black,  just  a  ragged  dish  clout; 
Then  the  country  crowd  cried,  "Go  take  the  next  train 
And  don't  dress  in  white  if  you  come  here  again." 

44 


Mollie  and  the  Lilies 
Photo    by    De    Vault.     In    Michigan 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE. 


A  SONG 
BENEATH  THE  OLD  ELM  TREE 

I  wandered  near  the  old  home 

Where,  in  the  long  ago, 
There   lived   a   happy   maiden 

Who  kept  my  heart  aglow ; 
I    sat,    where    oft    we    lingered, 

Beneath   the   old   elm   tree, 
And  in  my  memory  captured 

Her  voice  of  melody. 

Her   smiling   face,   enchanting, 

Drew  near,  and   I   could  see 
Her  witching  roguish  glances, 

Lovelight   bestowed   on   me, 
And    in    my    dream    I    held 

Her  dear  warm  hand  in  mine, 
And  once  more  felt  the  rapture 

Of   love  almost   divine. 

Then  waking,  gazed  about  me, 

The  night  grew  dark  and  cold ; 
Alas !   'twas  but   a   vision. 

My  days  were  growing  old ; 
With  longing   I   reached  backward 

To  grasp  those  days  of  yore, — 
The  elm  tree  branches  whispered, 

Soft  whispered,  "nevermore." 


46 


^~ 


'I  wandered  near  the  old  home."     Photo  by  Dr.  E.  F.  Beckwith 
In  Michigan 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


NATURE'S  PLAY 

Blue   is    the   sky   dome   over   the   green, 
Golden    the    sunshine    sifting   between 
Branches   that  lazily  sway  in  the  breeze, 
Showering    the    shadows    under    the    trees 
With  arrows  of  light   from  the  quiver  of  noon. 
By  the  bow  whose  arch  is  the  bright  sky  of  June. 

Sweet  is  the  air  with  the  perfume  of  flowers 
Yielding  their  life   through   the   long  sunny  hours; 
With  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  kiss  of  the  dawn 
To  give  them  a  welcome,  their  beaut}-  was  born. 
And  now  seeks  the  sun  its  nightly   repose, 
While  over  its  couch  drapes  a  curtain  of  rose. 

The  clouds  rolling  upward  in  waves  from  the  west, 
Wear  the  colors  of  heaven  with  silvery  crest, 
Where  the  moon  proudly  sailing  disperses  her  light 
Till  the  little  stars  modestly  creep  out  of   sight. 
These  beautiful  charms  of   the  night  and  the  day 
Are   glorious   acts   in    Nature's   grand   play. 


A  SONG 
A    BUNCH    OF   VIOLETS 

Only   a   bunch   of   violets   sweet, 

Only   a   vision   of    heavenly   blue; 

Only  blue  eyes  they  love  to  meet. 

Only  a  token  of  love  for  you. 

Only   a    little   gift   'tis    true. 

Yet  when  you  look  with  your  eyes  of  blue 

Over  them    fondly  with   tender  care, 

Surely    my   love   will    meet   you   there. 


"With  arrows  of  light  from  the  quiver  of  noon." 
Photo  by  Oliver  T.  Waite.  In  Penn. 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


Only  a  bunch  of  violets  sweet, 
Telling  the  story  of  lovely  spring; 
Shyly  the}'  bloom  where  the  birds  retreat, 
Near  by  the  woodland  their  songs  to  sing. 
Blue  are  the   skies  on   a   summer   day, 
Blue  are  the  hills   in  the   far-away; 
Blue  are  these  violets,  yet,  'tis  true, 
Lovelier   still  are  your  eyes  of  blue. 


Only   a   bunch    of    violets    sweet, 
Only  blue  eyes  they  love  to  meet ; 
So  do  I   send  them  with  joy  to  you, 
Breathing"  my  love  in   these  violets  blue. 


AFTER  THE  SHOWER 

After   the    shower   comes   a    golden    refrain, 

Nature  smiling  through  tears,  joy-tears  from  the  rain; 

After  the  showers,  showers  that  gladden  the  earth. 

Blade,  blossom,  and  leaf  feel  the  joy  of  new  birth. 

After  our   trials  are   fought  one  by  one, 

Life   strengthens   and  glows   when  the  victory's  won. 

After  we've   wandered   astray   in  life's  vale 

Comes  a  brighter  outlook  when  we  strike  the  right  trail. 


50 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


PEEP,    PEEP,   PEEP 

Way  down  in  the  swamp,  by  the  pasture  near, 
The  first  voices  of  spring,  spring  actually  here. 

Peep,  peep,  peep, 
They  are  little   peep-frogs   in   invisible  togs, 

Peep,  peep,  peep, 
When    the   twilight   descends, 
Thus    they   call   to    their    friends, 
"Spring   gently   awakes 
From  our   long   slumber  takes 
Till  we  peep,  peep,  peep." 


YELLOW    COWSLIPS 

Out  in   the   woods   in   the  early   spring 
When  the  joy  of  birds  just  makes  them  sing; 
Down   in   the   swamp  where   the   alders  grow, 
'Twixt    mossy    bogs    whore    dull    waters    flow ; 
With  bright  green  leaves,  near  the  mosses  old 
Are  the   early  cowslips  with   hues  of   gold. 

What  a  joy  supreme,  just  to  wander   there 
From  bog  to  bog,  look  out !  take  care ! 
Then  a   careless  tread  betrays  your   feet 
And   their   muddy   tops   is   mud   com/plcte ; 
A  few  more  steps  and  you  make  a  pull 
For   the   solid   ground   with   your   basket    full. 

The  songs  of  spring  are  in  the  air, 

The   swelling  buds   their   faith   declare 

That  the  winter  days  are  past  and  gone 

And  the  green-trimmed  boughs  are  hastening  on 

To  make  the  woods  a  leafy  bower 

Where   the   sunlight    shoots    its   arrow   shower. 


52 


"Peep,  peep,   peep." 
"Out  in   the  woods  in   early  spring." 
Photo   by  Dr.    E.   F.    Beckwith.     In   Michigan. 


POEMS  FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 

PEACE 

On   the   moonlit    sands   by   the   summer    sea, 
Above,  the  vast  infinity, 
Full   of   celestial  harmony; 
Around,  a  sweet  tranquility, 
The  slumbering  day's  last  lullaby, — 
Stilled  by  the  night's  soft  witchery, 
We   sit   and    dream. 

The  world   is  gone  with  yesterday ; — 
Beyond,  is  all  a  mystery, 
Now,   from   the   Night's  divinity, 
Falls  with   her   beauteous   drapery, 
Falls  on  our  souls  like  melody, 
A  happy  peace. 


DAISIES 

Daisies    purple,    daisies    white, 
Ox-eyed   daisies,   golden   bright; 
Every  little  blossom  knows, 
When   the   summer   south   wind  blows, 
Waving  grassy  slopes  in  June, 
That  its  short  life  endeth  soon. 

So  it  uses  all  its  power, 
Buds  are  opening  every  hour, 
Fields  of  daisies,  purest  white 
Glisten  in  the  soft  sunlight, 
Gaily  dotted  here  and  there 
Where  the  happy  children  are. 

Picking  all   they  want  and  more, 
Making  daisy  chains  galore, 
Shouting,   laughing,   full  of  glee, 
Not  a  care,  from  labor  free. 
Daisy  time  in  leafy  June 
Perfect  chord  in  Nature's  tune. 


54 


Little  ones  with  smiling  faces 
Comfort  us  in  life's  hard  places. 


"By  the  little  feet  that  entered 
In  the  schoolhouse  on  the  hill. 

55 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


BLUE  FRINGED  GENTIAN 

Blue  fringed  gentian 

Claims  attention 
In    September    hours; 

Born  of  sunlight, 

'Tis  its  birthright, 
Queen  of  all  wild  flowers. 

You   must   trave1 

To  unravel 
Questions  where  to  find  it; 

One   year,   hither, 

Next  year,   thither; 
Leaves  no  trace  behind  it. 

By  the  brookside 

Xear   the   noontide, 
There  its  beauty  glows; 

Buds   uplifted, 

Opened,  rifted, 
When  the  sunshine  flows. 

Sky  blue  tinges, 

Dainty  fringes 
'Round  their  lovely  bells; 

Is  the   story 

Of  their  glory 
That  the  vision  tells. 


56 


Blue  Fringed  Gentians.     Photo  by  W.   R.   Pond. 
In  Conn. 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


GOLDENROD 

Near  the  old  stone  wall,  by  the  country  road, 
Close  by  the  fence,  after  fields  are  mowed, 
Bowing  politely,  to  those  who  had  trod 
Over  the  hills,   is   the  goldenrod. 

All  day  long  with   the  winds  at  play, 
Growing  in  beauty  day  by  day; 
Counting  its  bloom   as  a  mass   of  gold, 
Despising  all  others  as  poor  and  old. 

O,  the  goldenrod  is  a  proud  young  thing 
And  sways  its  head  with  a  saucy  fling, 
But  when  you  meet  it  and    stop  a  while, 
It  greets  you  then  with  a  winning  smile. 


OCTOBER  DAYS 

In  the  golden  haze  of  October  days, 

In  the  woodland  valleys  and  hills 
There  are  showers  of  gold  for  the  leaves  grown  old, 

Drop  fast  into  Nature's  tills. 

Then  the  prickly  burrs,  when  the  sharp  wind  stirs 

Every  branch  of  the  chestnut  tree, 
Opened    wide    by    frost,    never   heed   the    cost, 

But  give  of  their  treasures  free. 

O  those  woodland  hills,  how  their  beauty  thrills, 

Bright   tinted    from   red   to   gold ; 
'Tis   a    farewell    song  while  we   drift  along 

Toward  the  days  when  the  year  is  old. 

58 


"Near  the  old  stone  walls  by  the  country  road." 
Photo  by  W.  L.  Pond.     In  Brooklyn,  Conn. 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


IX    THE    HIGH-BACK    SLEIGH 

Over   the   hills    in    the   high-back    sleigh, 
Over   the   hills   on    that    sunny    day, 
Diamonds  on  shrubs  and  ice-bound  trees 
Mashed   when   stirred  by  the  morning  breeze, 
For   the   winter   night   of   mist   and    rain 
Had    trimmed    them    over    and    over    again. 

Over    the    hills    in    the    high  back    sleigh 
With   buffalo    robes   the   cold    to    stay, 
And  soap-stones  hot.   wrapped   snug  and  neat 
In   grandma's   shawl   to    warm   your   feet, 
One   hand   sufficient    the   horse  to   guide, 
One   arm    to   keep   close   by   your   side 

The   dearest   girl   you   ever   knew. 
With    rosy   cheeks   and   eyes   of  blue, 
And  'neath  her  hood  strayed  many  a  curl. 
Her  smiles  to  wreath,  your  head  to  whirl. 
'Tvvas    a    joy    supreme    that    winter   day 
Over   the   hills    in    the   high-back    sleigh. 

Over   the   hills    in   the   high-back    sleigh — 

When   memory  brings  the   far-away, 

You  can  almost  hear  (lie  sleigh-bells  ring 

And  see  the  white  fields  hurrying 

By,  as  they  did   that   sunny  day 

When  you  rode  with  her  in  the  high-back  sleigh. 


60 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


THE    RAINY    DAY    IN    JULY 

In  the  old  red  barn  on  a  rainy  day, 

In  the  old  red  barn  where  the  new-mown  hay 

Is  piled  up  high  to  the  rafters  near. 

So  near  that  the  swallows  shake  with   fear, 

You  will  find  the  boys   in  haying  time ; 

Up   the   ladder   they  love   to  climb, 

To  tumble  and  roll  in  the  fragrant  hay. 

For  this   is   surely  a  holiday. 

Softly   the   patter   of    rain    o'erhead 
Like  music  tempts  them  to  make  their  bed. 
To  lie  and  sleep  'mid  the  odors  sweet 
While   the   swallows   twitter  a  tete-a-tete ; 
And  the  tingle  on  the  shingles 
Of  the   rain-drops  falling   fast, 
Tells  to  them  a  pleasant  story, 
That  all  day  the  rain  will  last. 

They  have  worked  so  hard  in  the  long  hot  days, 

So   hard   in   the  field   where   the   sun's   hot   rays 

Have  tired  them  out,  that  they  love  to  keep 

Up  in  the  hay-mow  fast  asleep ; 

And  this  rainy  day  in  hot  July 

To  the  farmer  boys,  like  a  berry  pie 

That    mother    made,    is    a    welcome    treat 

And  the  rest  they  gain  is  a  rest  complete. 


62 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE  SEA 

By  the  rolling  sea.  on  the  wave-beat  shore, 
Is  the  place  I  love  when  the  breakers  roar; 
When  the  howling  winds  drive  the  angry  skies 
Till  the  shadows  grow  where  the  sea-gull  flies. 

When  the  cloudless  sky  wears  a  turpoise  hue, 
Then  the  sea  replies  with  a  deeper  blue; 
And  its  feathery  edge  a  white  rim  shows 
Where  the  sandy  beach  in  the  sunlight  glows. 

How  the  moon's  soft  rays,  in  the  summer  night. 
On  the  dimpling  waves  paint  a  path  of  light; 
^•V^'     And  the  stars  like  diamonds  gleam  afar, 

While  the  sea  sobs  low  on  the  harbor  bar. 

,,y*      '-» 

There's  never  a  day  and  never  an  hour, 
When  by  the  sea,  but  we  feel  its  power ; 
And  whether  its  mood  be  wild  or  tame, 

Its  spell  is  over  us  just  the  same. 

x 

The  years  will  come  and  the  years  will  go 
While  ever  its  tide  will  ebb  and  flow ; 
And  never  its  breast  rest  quietly 
Till  it  laps  the  shore  of  eternity. 


64 


'By  the  rolling  sea,  on  the  wave-beat  shore. 
On   Massachusetts  Coast 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


SCHOOLDAYS   IN   THE   COUNTRY 

In  the  dewy  morning,  ewer  hills  and  dales, 

Merry    voices    ringing,    shining   dinner-pails; 

Up  the  hill  they  scramble  towards  the  schoolhouse  door, 

Just  as  you  and  I  did, — many  years  before. 

Little  barefoot  Tommy.  Rob  and  sister  Sue, 
Curly-headed  Mary  in  her  suit  of  blue. 
Row  by  row  they're  seated,  faces  all  aglow, 
'Cepting  "Stubby  Peter,"  sliver  in  his  toe. 

Teacher  calls  to  order,  "Class  in  'ruhmetic, 
Places  at  the  blackboard,  every  one  be  quick." 
How  the  chalk  does  rattle  till  the  problem's  done; 
Bennie  proves  the  victor,  calls  out  "Number  one." 

Now  the  writing  Ie0son ;   see  them  try  to  write, 
Noses  near  the  paper,  some  with  tongue   in  sight ; 
Little   heads   a-twisting,   think   they'll   do   it   better; 
Gracious !    what  an  effort,  just  to  make  a  letter. 

So  the  lessons  follow  till  the  noon  is  near; 
Then  a  solemn  stillness  while  they  wait  to  hear 
Just  a  little  tingle,  then   with  rush  and   roar. 
From  the  desks  and  benches,  out  the  schoolhouse  door 


Pour  the  lads  and  lasses,  bound  to  have  some  fun, 
Every  minute  precious  till  the  clock  strikes  one. 
"School-days  in  the  country";  were  you  ever  in  it? 
What  a  world  of  gladness  pressed  in  every  minute. 


66 


Come  on   in,  the  water  is  fine. 
Photo  by  W.   R.  Pond 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE  SEA   MYSTERY 

There's  a  charm  unknown  to  the  dweller  far 
From  the  sandy  shore   where  the  breakers  are. 
To   feel  the  spell   that   will   round  you  twine, 
In  the  summer  even   on   the   sand   recline, 
While  the  rosy  glow  of  the  waning  light 
Waves   a   parting  kiss   to   the   starry   night. 

Over   the   sea,   over  the   sea, 

Gaze  while  the  waves  chant  a  soft  melody, 

Lapping  incessantly,  lapping  the  shore, 

Giving   and   taking,    but   taking    far   more, 

Till  the  curves  on  the  beach  grow  wide  in  their  reach 

And    the    undertow    carries    the    sand    to    its    store. 

Over  the  sea,  over  the  sea, 
Look    till    enthralled    by    the    sea    mystery, 
Your  life  in  the  past   dissolves    from  your  view 
And  you   seemingly   enter   the    far   -away   blue. 

'Tis  the  charm  of  the  sea,  clinging,  holding  you  tight 
That   keeps  you,   a   watcher,    far   into   the  night 
Till,  breaking  its  spell,  you  wander  away, 
But  know   it  will  draw  you  again  some  day. 


68 


g» 

'•io 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


THE  OLD  WOOLEN  JACKET 

How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  clothes  of  my  childhood, 

Though  rarely,  if  ever.  I  had  any  new. 
The  straw  hat,  the  jumper,  the  pants  that  were  patched 
good ; 

Xo  bare  spots  appeared  till  my  feet  came  in  view. 
The  old  woolen  jacket  that  hung  by  the  door; 

How  often   at  night  on   returning   from   school, 
I    found   it   the   source   of   exquisite   comfort 

To  button  it  tight  when  the  weather  was  cool. 

The  old  woolen  jacket, 
The  patch-covered  jacket, 
The  heavy,  warm  jacket 
That  hung  by  the  door. 

That  old   woolen  jacket,    .vhen  new,   was   a  beauty, 

And  worn  by  the  brother  then  oldest  in  line, 
From  brother  to  brother  it  slowly  descended 

Until  at  the  last  that  jacket  was  mine. 
'Twas    stretched    in    the   arm-holes,    'twas  'torn    in    the 
collar ; 

Its  colors  were  many,  like  Joseph's,  of  old, 
Though   striped  in   front  and  patches  around   it, 

In  the  cold  winds  of   winter  'twas  better  than  gold. 

The  old  woolen   jacket, 
The  patch-covered  jacket, 
The  heavy,  warm  jacket 
That  hung  by  the  door. 

Near    "the    old    oaken    bucket." 


70 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


HAYING,   SOME   MEMORY   TALKS 

Did  you  ever  smell  the  new-mown  grass, 
Or   ever   have   leisure   the   time   to   pass, 
Though  short,  yet  sweet,  in  the  field  to  rest 
While  the  haying  season   was   at   its  best? 
If  so,  you  heard  the  birds'   sweet   song, 
You    watched,    you    listened,    and    waited    long, 
And  shortened  the  time  for  your  homeward  walk 
You   can't   forget,   there'll   be   memory   talk 

In  a  quiet  way, 
Of  the  pleasures  you  had  that  summer  day. 

Down   in   the   meadow   in   haying  time, 

In   days   of   old,   when   the   scythes   would   chime, 

While   the   men,   in   shirts   and   overalls, 

Would    whet    them    sharp    for    many    falls 

Of  the  waving  grass  into  winrows   sweet, 

And  the  straw-hat  boy  with  scratched  bare  feet 

\Vould   spread   it  wide   with   his   two-tined   fork; 

Is   the   place   that   makes   my   memory   talk 

In  a  quiet  way, 
Of   the   old   home    farm   and    making   hay. 

And  then,  in  the  fervid  afternoon 
We  would   rake  the    hay  up  none  too   soon, 
For  the  thunder-heads  in  the  west  appeared 
Like  fleece  from  a  sheep  that  was  newly  sheared; 
No  time   to   waste,   'twas   the   workers'   test, 
For   the   clouds   grew   darker   in    the   west, 
'Twas  a  rush  to  the  barn,  to  run,  not  walk ; 
And    that,   too,    makes    my    memory   talk 

In  a  quiet  way, 
Of  how  we  escaped  the  shower  that  day. 


71 


POEMS  FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 

IN  THE  FOREST 

Roaming  idly  in   the   forest 

In  the   leafy  month  of   June, 
Is  a  charm  that  wraps  the  senses, 

When  all  nature  is  in  tune. 
Beautiful  in  early  morning 

Just   to   wander,    careless,    free, 
In   the   silence  that   is  broken 

Only   by  the   melody 
Of    the    happy,    joyous    songsters. 

Praise  of  nature  they  intone 
Far  above  the  danger  region, 

Each  a  king  upon  his  throne. 

Sit   upon  the  bank  and  listen 

While  the  brook  across  your  path 
Ripples    soft,    and    sunlight    arrows 

Shoot  a  beauteous  aftermath. 
Watch  the  branches  gently  swaying, 

Bowing  to  the  summer  breeze ; 
See    the    lights    and    shadows    playing, 

Woodland   fairies  'mid  the  trees. 
Then  look  upward  through  the  rifting, 

See    the   glorious   azure    blue 
Hovering   over   little   cloudlets, 

Tiny  cloudlets,   white   and   new. 
You  will  love  her  kindly  wooing, 

Feel  the  grasp  of   Nature's  hand, 
Giving  you  the  strength  for  doing, 

Acting,    meeting   life's   demand. 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


ONE   SUMMER    NIGHT 

Breaking   gently   in    milky    foam. 
Then    returning,   again    to   come; 
Constant  never. 
Coqueting  ever. 

Trimming  with  lace  the  curving  shore. 
With   silver   fringing  it  o'er  and  o'er; 
Thus  did  the  waves,  one  summer  night. 
While  we  watched  them  play  in  the  mellow  light. 

The  moon  looked  down  on  an  opal  sea, 
Which  softly  sang  a  lullaby; 
Born  of  the  spirit  of  sad  unrest. 
Flashing  the  diamonds  on  its  breast. 

O,  never  a   fairer  sight  was  seen 
Than  met  our  gaze  that  summer  e'en ; 
The  long  white  reach 
Of  the  sandy  beach. 
Bathed  in  a  marvelous  pearly  light, 
Beckoned  us  on  through  the  beauteous  night ; 
It  seemed  like  a  walk  on  the  Heavenly  shore, 
By  the  bou.:dless  sea  of  the  Evermore. 

'Twas  a  night  to  live  in  memory, 

Just  the  fairest  picture  there, 

To  calm   the   troubled   spirit, 

Like  the  breath  of  an  angel's  prayer. 

A  haze,  like  the  rainbow's  shadow, 
Crept    down   the   arched   sky, 
Weaving  with  warp  of  moonlight 

A   royal  canopy, 

Whose  folds  were  pinned  with  starlights, 
Whose  beauty  draped  the  sea, 
And  all  the  realm  of  nature 
Was  one  grand  harmony. 

74 


"The   moon  looked   down  on   an   opal   sea." 
On   Massachusetts  Coast 


POEMS  FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


THE  ANGELS'  SWEETEST  SONG 

'Twas  at  the  hour  of  midnight, 

When  earth  in   slumber  lay, 
I  dreamed  of  heavenly  music 

Coming   from   far  away ; 
A  melody  far  sweeter 

Than    mortals    ever   heard, 
It  drew  me  nearer,  nearer, 

My  very  soul  was  stirred. 

Whence    came    this    wondrous    music? 

No  being  on  this  earth 
Could  ever  write   its   pages, 

Or  ever  give  it  birth ; 
The   harmony   was   perfect, 

It  could   not  be   surpassed, 
I    listened,    fondly   hoping 

That    it    might    always    last. 

Then   fled  the  dark  of   midnight, 

The    heavens    opened    wide, 
I   saw  the  angels  singing, 

Before   the  Crucified, 
Ten   thousand   times   ten  thousand, 

Unnumbered   was   the   throng, 
And   like    the    waves    of    ocean 

The   music    rolled  along. 

The    stars   no   longer   glittered 

And  vanished  one   by   one, 
Awed  by  the  matchless  glory 

That   in   the  heavens  shone ; 
Triumphant  was  the  music, 

Naught   could    resist   it    long, 
And    I    had    heard    in    dreamland 

The  angels'   sweetest  song. 


76 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 

A  SONG 
RINGING   OF  THE   CHIMES 

Chimes    were    sweetly    ringing, 

Ringing   one   summer   eve, 
Dropping  their  musical  diamonds 

Down   in   a   fairy   sieve 
Made  by   the   lights  and   shadows 

Floating  beneath   the   trees, 
Gently    woven    together 

By   the   soft   evening   breeze. 

Chimes   were   ringing,   ringing, 
Ringing   each   joyful   bell, 

Dropping    their   musical    diamonds 
The    old,    old    songs    to   tell. 

Sitting  there,   I   listened, 

Listened  to  hear  their  ring; 
Ringing  the  old-time  music, 

Songs  that  I  used  to  sing; 
Then,   when  their  musical   story 

Ended    at   twilight's    fall, 
Waves  of  the  past  were  bringing 

Songs    from    my   memory's    hall. 

Chimes   were   ringing,   ringing, 
Ringing   each   joyful   bell, 

Dropping    their    musical    diamonds 
The   old,   old    songs    to   tell. 

Long-lost   melodies,   creeping 
Out  of  the   sands  of   time, 
Tuned  by  my  fanciful   musings, 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


Tuned   to   a   tone   sublime ; 
Moonlight,    shadowy    visions, 

Visions   of   olden   times, 
Folded  their  charms  around  me, 

Moved  by  the   ringing  chimes. 

Chimes   were   ringing,   ringing, 

Ringing   each   joyful   bell, 
Dropping    their    musical    diamonds 

The    old,    old    songs    to    tell. 

(One  summer  eve,  while  sitting  under  the  trees  in  the  Boston 
public   garden,   near    to   the    many   churches.) 


A  SONG 
A   LIGHT   FROM   PARADISE 

I   dreamed  that   I   sailed  on  a  river   fair 

Towards   the   heavenly   Jerusalem, 
While    from   far   away,   all   the   golden   day, 

Came  sweet  songs  from  the  angels'  home. 

A    storm    swept    the    waters,    the    daylight    fled, 
Dark  the   night,   fierce  the   wind   and  cold, 

But  I   knew   that  the   King  of  that  heavenly  land 
Would  bring  me  safe  into  His   fold. 

I    dreamed   that   the   King   sent   his   angels   down, 
That   they   played   on    their   harps   of    gold, 

Till    the    storm    was    stilled   and    my    soul    was    thrilled 
While   the   harmonics   upward    rolled. 

The  darkness  of   night  sped  softly  away, 

Ne'er  a  cloud  in  the  sky's  blue  dome, 
Then    a   glorious    Light    shone    from   Paradise 

And  I  knew  I  was  almost  home. 


78 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


THE  COTTAGER 

When   the  setting  sun   with   its   slanting  rays 
On   the  fleecy  clouds  paints  a  crimson  blaze, 
And  the   sparrow's  nest  in  the  roof  of   thatch, 
Then   his   door   swings   with   its   loosened   latch, 
And   the   cottager   loves    in   his   easy   chair 
To   sit  and   rest  in   comfort   there. 

To   him   kind   Nature   gifts   will   bring, 
The   flowers   will   bloom,   the  birds   will   sing, 
And   the  waving  erass  on   the  hillsides  green 
Is  a  picture    fair  as   the   eye  hath   seen ; 
And    though    he    works    and    digs   the    ditch, 
He  envys  not  the  idle  rich. 

For   when  his   long   days'   work  is   done, 
Work   since   the   rising   of   the   sun, 
His    little    children    often    come 
To   meet   him   ere   he   reaches  home. 

And    happy   pass    the   evening   hours 
Amid   the   vines   and   leafy  bowers 
That   cluster    round   his   cottage   door ; 
Contented   there,   he   wants  no   more. 

There's   happiness    in    country   life, 
Free  from  the  endless  toil  and  strife 
That   often    mar   and   leave    their   trace 
On   many  a  one-time  happy   face. 


80 


£0 


2u 


•s 


"In    the    shade    of    the    old    garden    apple    tree    resting." 
Photo   by    E.    R.    Bolander 

SPRINGTIME 

In   the   shade   of    the  old  garden   apple   tree  resting; 

While  breezes  play  softly  'mid  blossoms  and  leaves, 
And   in    its  green   branches   the   robins   are   nesting ; 

Glad    notes    of    the    springtime   my    fancy    receives. 
A   perfume   delicious  rny   breath   is   inhaling, 

The  arch  of  the  sky  wears  a  lovely  May  blue, 
And    over    its    sea    the   white   clouds   are    sailing, 

Till,    harbored    in    sunlight,    they    vanish    from    vie\v. 

Xo\v  down  by  the  meadows  where  flowers  are  springing, 

The   swallows   are   curving   in   crescents   of   light, 
While  sweet  on   the   air   falls  the  jubilant   singing 

Of  birds  new  redeemed  from  the  winter's  long  night 
O,    glorious    springtime,    when    earth    is    awaking, 

And    Nature    in    beautiful    garments    is    dressed; 
Thy   smile   giveth   life   to   each   day's   undertaking, 

Thy   generous   heart    ever   brings   us    the   best. 

82 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


FALLING   LEAVES 

Falling   leaves,    falling    leaves, 

Back  to  earth, 

Back  to  the  source  that  gave  them  birth. 
So  do  we,   life's  voyage  past, 
Take  down  the  sails,  release  the  mast, 
And  through  the  breakers,  cross  the  beach 
Our  Father's  welcome  home  to  reach. 


THAT  MORNING  RIDE 

'Twas  a  happy  couple  that  sum,mer  morn 
Bill   tooted   and   tooted  his   auto  horn, 
And    Molly    beside    him,    dressed    in    white, 
Was  very   bewitching,   a   lovely   sight. 

The  ride  by  .many  fertile  farm 
With  its  fields  of  corn  gave  added  charm, 
And   the  Jersey  cows   were   chewing  over 
Again   their   feed   of   sweetest   clover. 

Bill  looked  at   Moll,   Moll  looked  at  Bill, 
There   were   hunger    signs    though  they  kept  still. 
At  last  Bill  said,   "What  shall  we  eat? 
Berries  and  cream  would  be  a  treat. 

There's  a  basketful   in  the  box  behind 
With  a  jar  of   cream,  of  the  Jersey  kind, 
Saucers    and    spoons   you'll    find   there,    too ; 
Now  Molly  dear,  it's  up  to  you." 

They  stopped  beneath   a   royal   oak, 
So   full   of  joy  that   neither   spoke; 
Those  berries  and  that  Jersey  cream 
Soon   vanished   like  a   summer  dream. 


83 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S   EXPERIENCE 


Bright  is  the  dawn  of  the  winter  morn 

And    icy   the   winds   that   blow 
Through   the   valleys  and   over   the  hills, 

Curling   the   drifts   of    snow. 

The  storm  is  over,  the  stars  grow  dim, 

The  moon  sinks  in  the  west, 
A   rosy  glow  on   the  hills  of  snow, 

A   morning  with   beauty  blest. 

In  the  forest  nook,  by  the  ice-bound  brook, 
The    pine    trees    wear    a    shroud. 

And   over   their   green    its    folds   are   seen 
White   as    a    summer   cloud. 

Now  the  sleigh  bells  ring,  and  the  horses  fling 
Their  hoofs  on  the  polished  road, 

And  the  happy  throng,  as  they  glide  along, 
Is  life  with  joy  o'erflowed. 

There's  a  charming  play  of  the  winter  day 
On  the  heart,    with  a  touch  that  thrills, 

And  the  cords  of  life  grow  strong  for  strife 
And  the  soul  with  courage  fills. 


84 


The    Winter    Day.      In    Connecticut 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


POPPING  THE  QUESTION 

Miss  Sallie  sat  by  the  window, 

Waiting  for  Jimmie  to  come, 
Daintily  clad  in  her  Sunday's, 

Chewing  her   spearmint  gum, 
Thinking  and  thinking  and  hoping, 

Hoping   tonight   he   would   pop, 
For  Jim   had  a  bad  hesitation, 

When    started,   'twas   that   made   him    stop. 

Mother  was  near  in  the  kitchen, 

Daddy   reading   by   dim   candle   light, 
Moonlight    outside    was    bewitching, 

Now  surely  he'd  pop  it   tonight. 
Soon   Jimmie   appeared    in    the    gateway, 

Quick    Sallie    met   him    at   the    door, 
"Nice  evening,"   he   said  with   a   stutter, 

Then    stopped    for    he    couldn't    say    more. 

In  the  parlor  they  sat  on  the  sofa, 
But   Jimmie   in    silence   remained, 

I'll  pop  it   myself,   thought   Miss   Sallie, 
And  then  there  will  be  something  gained. 

So   laying  her  head   on  his    shoulder, 

She   gave   him   a   gentle  caress, 
"Will  you  marry  me,  Jimmie,"  she  uttered, 

And    Jimmie   quite    faintly   said    "Yes." 


86 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


THE   SCHOOL   EXHIBITION 

The   skool   exhibition,   why   a'nt   you   a-goin'? 
They    say   that   our   skolars   will   make  a  big  showin'; 
The  hull   skool  cummitty   will  be   there  ter-night, 
And   the   children    will   bring   lots   of   candles   to   light. 

Down  in  the  Smith  Valley  they  had  one  last  night, 
And   them   as   has   seen,   sod   'twan't   much   of   a   sight; 
And   in  the  Jones  dcestrick  they  didn't   do  well, 
But   we'll   show   'em  how,   make  'em  think   for  a  soell. 

Jim's  a-practicin'  now,  every  evening  this  week, 
He's  up   in   the  atick,  you   kin   hear   his  boots   squeak; 
He's  Roin'  tor  speak  of  an   Injun  so  brave 
That  he'd  swim  till  he  drowned,  'fore  he'd  be  a  darn 
slave. 

You  know,  our  Salomie'll  stand  up  and  recite, 
She'll   look   terribul   nice,   goin'   ter   dress   all   in    white. 
Jed    Stebbins,    he's   borrowed    a   yaller   box    sleigh, 
Throw'd  out  all  ther  scats,  put  in  sum  bog  hay. 

An'   rerkins   he'll   carry   ez  many's   a   duzen. 
By  usin'  two  bosses,  got  one   from  his  ciuin. 
Cy,    he'll    do    the    drivin'    and    Jed    pack    'em    in, 
They're  sure  ter  git  there  'fore  the  show  will  begin. 

Don't    sit   there   a-smokin',    just    finish   yer    chores. 
Put   on  yer  black  trowses,   them  others   is   tore; 
Be  sure  and  start  arly,  take  Jim  and  Salome, 
After  washin'  the  dishes,   I'll   ride  down   with   Jerome 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


THE  HUSKING   PARTY 

There   is    going   to    be    a   husking 

At   the   William   Potter   farm, 
And   I    know    by   what   they're    doing, 

It   will    surely   be   a   charm ; 
Many  shocks   of    corn   are   standing 

In  the  barn   along  the   iloor, 
Overhead   are    rows   of   lanterns, 

New  and   shiny,   by  the  score ; 
They  have  searched  the  wood  and  marshes 

For  the  best  of   evergreens, 
Made  them  into  cozy  bowers, 

Bowers    fit    for    Fairy    Queens. 

When   the   husking   time   is    over 

Farmer   boys   will    clear   the    floor, 
Teddy  Roose  will  play  the  fiddle 

While   they  dance   an   hour  or   more; 
Then  will  come  the  time   for  Hipper, 

Supper  fit  for  any  king, 
Pies   and   doughnut;-,   cakes   and   jellies, 

Just  the   best   of   everything; 
Cider  sweet,   fresh   from   the   presses, 

Made  of   apples   ripe   and   red, 
Even   now   it  .makes   me  thirsty ; 

It   will   never   swell  your  head. 

"Mary,   dear,    I'm   here   to   ask   you, 

May   I    call    for   you   tonight? 
May  I  take  you  to  the  husking? 
It  will  give  me  great  delight  ; 
If    I   chance  to  find   a   red   ear 

I   shall  claim  a  piize    from  you, 
So  I  want  you  close  beside  me, 

Watching  with  your  eyes  of  blue." 
"Yes,   indeed,    I    thank   you   kindly, 

Call    for   me,    I'll    gladly   go; 
But    be   careful,    do   not   lead    me 
Underneath    the    mistletoe." 

89 


POEMS   FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 

THE  SUMMER  NIGHT 

Soft  whispering  in  the  leafy  trees, 
The  slumber-soothing  gentle  breeze 
\Yith  fairy  wand  disturbs  the  air, 
Filled  with  the  breath  of  roses  rare. 

Descending    in    the    languorous    night, 
With   silent   move,   the   moonlight  bright 
Creeps    through    the    windows   just    to   peep 
At    white-robed    darlings,    lost    in    sleep. 

O   summer   night !    'tis   Nature's    sleep, 
O'er    all    the    earth    its    rest    will    creep, 
And   he    who   daily    does   his   best, 
Will    largest    share    in    Nature's    rest. 


ALONG  THE   RIVER  BANKS 

Along  the   river   banks   we   wandered,   you   and   I, 
Fidl  happy  in  today  and  thoughts  of  by  and  by  ; 
Above    the    shaded    path    the   gentle   summer   breeze 
Seemed   whispering  a   song  amid   the  hustling   leaves 

Along  the  river  banks  we  wandered,  you  and  I, 
The  brightest   day   in   June,  beneath  a  cloudless   sky ; 
The  river  glided   on   'twixt   banks   of   emerald   green. 
Bedecked    with    lovely    flowers,    kind    Nature's    smiles 


Along    the    river    banks,    I    never    can    forget 
Those  happy  hours  we  spent  in  memory  linger  yet; 
Upon  the  bank  we  sat.  charmed  with  the  summer  night, 
Born  of  'the  sunset  rays  and   fading  soft  twilight. 

Along   the   river   banks,   'twas   in   the   long  ago, 
And  there  we  made  our  vows,  together  we  would  go 
Along  the   stream  of   life,   each   in  each  other's  care, 
Contented  on  our   way,  all  joys   and  griefs  to  share. 

90 


POEMS    FROM    LIFE'S    EXPERIENCE 


IN   THE  TRUNDLE-BED 

Three  little  tots  in  the  trundle-bed, 
To  the  land  of   Nod  in  their  dreams  have  fled, 
And  often  a   smile,   while  you  gaze,   appears 
Which  the  fairies  gave  to  the  little  dears. 

The  three  little  tots  in  the  trundle-bed, 
Would  lie   so   still   till   their   prayers  were  said, 
But   after   mother   had   said   good-night, 
And    tucked    them    into    the    bed-clothes    tight, 

They   would   tumble   and    roll    till   you    couldn't   tell 
Where  Tommy  began,   or   which   was   Nell, 
And  Jimmie,  the  leader,  would  shout  with  glee 
While   his   head   would   bob   where   his    feet    should   be 

And  Tommy   by   poking  the   sheet   up   high 
Would  make  a  white  tent   in   which   they  could  lie; 
They  frolicked  and  laughed,  were  a  noisy  crew, 
Each   tried  to   do   more   than   the   others   could   do. 

But  tired  at  last,   father's  voice  they  heard, 
"Children,   keep   still,"   soon   they   hardly   stirred. 
So    the    three    little    tots    in    the    trundle-bed, 
To   the   land   of    Nod    then    quickly    fled. 


92 


THE  LitSKAKI 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOKWJ 


000924480    7 


PS 
3503 


1921 


